


Dance Lessons

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Custom Hawke (Dragon Age), Cute Fenris (Dragon Age), Dancing, Dancing Lessons, F/M, POV Fenris (Dragon Age), Purple Hawke, Rogue Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: In which Fenris doesn't know how to dance





	Dance Lessons

"I knew it. You want to kiss me, don't you?" Eyes like sea glass narrowed to thin suspicious slits, and the skin along the bridge of her nose scrunched together clusters of freckles. There was a sloppy stutter to her words, the kind that came with intoxication. On her breath was a sweet spice, cinnamon and honey mingling together with the underbite of ale. He didn’t recoil.

“This is hardly the place to-” his protest was for naught. His body moved not of his command when she clutched his arm and pulled him towards the center of the room. 

“Just - shut up and dance with me Fenris. Please? It’ll be fun!” 

Stumbling a step, he had no opportunity to object and his legs carried him unbidden past the empty tables. She wished to dance? Here? In the middle of the filthy tavern with no music but the sounds of snoring from drunken old men? 

But her arms were around his waist and her head laid against his chest without prompt as she swayed to a silent rhythm, perhaps a melody only she could hear. No one spared them a second glance, but it did not help the awkward position he had found himself in. His own arms remained directionless at his sides, hovering just inches from the feminine body clinging to him. If she minded that he wasn’t moving in time along with her, it didn’t appear to be obvious. 

That is until she lifted her head and stared open-mouthed in confusion. He saw the question in her eyes before she spoke it aloud.    
  
“Fenris? Why aren’t you moving?”

His mouth opened but words did not flow, not right at first. He quickly searched for the appropriate answer, “I - don’t dance?’ It was at least rooted in truth. Such a skill wasn’t something he proclaimed to be well versed in. 

He did not expect to see such an impish smile unfurl on the rogue’s face.  She prodded him and he felt his brows knit together frustratingly while he attempted to carefully pry himself free of the woman. “Don’t or can’t?”

“I simply don’t. It was - not something Danarius ever thought to teach me nor was it ever necessary for me to learn.” Fenris realized his efforts were futile when he heard Hawke sigh just as her arms squeezed him tighter. He swallowed a sound that threatened to undo his entire cooly detached demeanor and simply relented. A quiet giggle pulled his eyes down to see her unfurl her arms and release him. Relief flooded his system but what replaced it was a growing heat in his cheeks. Either she did not notice or she mercifully chose to feign ignorance. 

“Well,” she stood up straight and extended empty arms towards him in a wide arc. “It’s never too late.” 

Too late? It dawned upon him that she intended to teach him. Here? Now? 

“Hawke, we’re in the middle of the tavern.” His eyes darted across the room, as if subconsciously hoping to catch everyone staring at them, but still no one paid them much mind. Most patrons had left and Corff had long since stopped serving. Fenris watched as he made some small effort to wipe down the bar while Norah and Edwina collected empty mugs and roused the snoozing layabouts. 

Although Hawke did not make a point to comment on his desperate search for any excuse, she did forcibly redirect his attention back to her and he found himself momentarily lost in a sea of freckles. 

“Here, like this,” she all but slurred and fought against the rigidity of his form while trying to pose him like a clay figurine. He stood awkwardly yet allowed her to bend his arms to her will all the same. Warm hands slipped into his and Fenris became acutely aware of the satin of skin against his bare palms. “Hold your frame straight-” When his body did not comply at first, it was the gentle touch of fingertips against the small of his back that made him jolt upright and stiffen. 

A smile was his reward, one that touched her eyes and pulled at the corners of her lips enough to reveal the row of neat, white teeth. His eyes flitted to her fingers - long, scarred and calloused - as they completed the space between his own, knitting their hands together carefully. Hawke draped her left arm over his shoulder and before Fenris could register a complaint she pressed in, closing the gap between them in a fluid step forward. 

Earthly scents filled his nose with her nearness. The smell of sweat and soil and of wet dog fresh from the sea would not usually be welcome to his senses, but in the moment they were strangely comforting. She had not given him much direction beyond the initial instructions so it was with some hesitation that he reached out with his right arm, assuming it had no other place to go but around her waist. 

That seemed - correct?

“Good,” was her quiet praise, a breathy coo in his ears that warmed them to the tips. “You’re getting the hang of this.”

He let a natural silence fall after her compliments, and soon enough they were moving. His steps were awkward at first but he heard no complaints - only a pleasant humming. 

“Where did you learn to dance?” 

“My mother taught me. She was a noble, after all.“   
  
“I see.” 

Again, words faded into obscurity while they took steps to a silent beat with Fenris finding his stride the more they moved. As an elf he possessed a natural sort of grace but it was not enough to compensate for years of practice.

He met unexpected resistance when his instinctual desire to continue gliding unbalanced him. Fenris overcorrected, trying not to trip over his or Hawke’s feet while he felt her slow down until they stopped. Hawke let go first, but the subtle flush to her face and the suggestion of interest in her eyes said enough. “Is everything alright?” He still asked, curiously.

Her head bobbed with reassurance, “Yes! Of course! It’s just, it’s getting late, I should probably get home.”

Disappointment surfaced unexpectedly, but Fenris was careful not to show his hand, still plagued with uncertainty. “Of course.” 

“Thank you, Fenris. I had a good time.” came a sheepish response as she headed for the door.

An agonizing minute passed before he built up the courage to say something, effectively stopping her in her tracks. “Hawke?”

She cast a glance over her shoulder with the door to the tavern already cracked and letting in the cooler air from outside. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat, ignoring the pooling heat in his chest or the rapid thumping of his heartbeat. “I - would like to do this again.” Her face lit up and did little to help his racing pulse, but he felt a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“That would be nice. But-” She held him in a moment of suspense, but relief came mercifully quick when she completed her thought. “Maybe  _ not _ in the bar next time. Goodnight, Fenris.” Hawke - Devyn - slipped out the door with nothing but his name in the smile on her lips and left him with a chuckle in his throat.  
  



End file.
